because while some truths lend themselves to equations, others are best described in verse

she woke up without bruises

godless and unchagrined,
he exhales in satisfaction
of the smooth metal’s
bevel as it perforates
an imperfect knotted
border between
ecstasy and dismay;
this is penetration in its most
visceral sense, the delicate hairs
covering her forearms
chilled and on edge;
it’s almost sensual, slipping
like poison into veins
opened for the embrace
of a cure, the sterile admixture
of stainless steel melted
by the heat of her blood.

as many such instances
it’s over almost before it’s begun,
leaving an ache of anticlimax and only
a few precious drops on the
rough cotton sheets,
soon swept away by a need
for decency
and an orderly’s ungentle hand.